


Little by Little

by Margot_Lescargot



Series: Once more, from the top [3]
Category: Rivers of London - Ben Aaronovitch
Genre: (angst isn’t generally my thing), M/M, description of past relationship(s), past Thomas Nightingale/David Mellenby, tiny bit angsty? maybe? I dunno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:29:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24289726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Margot_Lescargot/pseuds/Margot_Lescargot
Summary: His name was David - David Mellenby - and he was brilliant.  There’s no other way I can describe him.  That word is bandied around all too often these days, but, really, he was.  We met at school; we were in the same form as it goes, though never remotely in the same class.  I used to wonder sometimes what he ever saw in me.
Relationships: Thomas Nightingale/Alexander Seawoll
Series: Once more, from the top [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1702759
Comments: 4
Kudos: 42





	Little by Little

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place quite early on. No more than a couple of months after they get together.

‘You know, I don’t think I ever realised your hair was curly,’ said Alex thoughtfully, running one hand through it where Thomas’ head was lying on his chest. ‘You can’t normally tell.’

It was Saturday morning, and although Alex’s ‘phone was switched on and to hand - Miriam was covering a suspicious death near Liverpool Street, slightly resentfully it had to be said, and was going to call to update him at some point - there was no immediate need to move.

‘Yes, well. Old habits die hard, I suppose, and I got used to flattening it down - bullying it into submission if you like - from quite young. Not that long after school probably.’ He paused. ‘I thought perhaps, I had the idea that, if I left it how it was, it would look too… effeminate somehow and, in the circumstances, that was - as you’ll appreciate -’ he added ruefully, ‘something I was anxious to avoid.’

Alex hmmed. ‘Well, back then, yes, I get that. But now?’

‘Too set in my ways, as I say. And far too late to change now.’

‘Fair enough. But for what it’s worth, I think it’s a shame. It looks good on you.’

‘Thank you,’ he said, and gave Alex’s hand a squeeze. ‘As a matter of fact, David was the one who said I should-,’ he stumbled to a stop. ‘Sorry.’

'Don’t be,’ said Alex. ‘David? Is that someone from before the war?’

Thomas hesitated. ‘And during, yes.’

Alex smiled. ‘You _can_ talk about your ex, you know. If you don’t want to, then ok, but what I mean is, don’t hold off on my account.’

‘My…”ex”.’

‘Well, yeah, I just assumed. Sorry… ’

Thomas’ countenance changed and his expression became one that Alex hadn’t seen before. It looked back into the past, and his eyes fixed on something long gone, with a peculiar glow.

‘I don’t know if “ex” would be the term I’d use. It’s not a term any of us would have used in fact.’ He thought. ‘It was a different world then, Alex, as I am sure you can imagine. I am aware, of course, that you must have grown up with certain prejudices, and I am not denigrating that in the slightest, but, we… we could go to prison. We did. Go to prison I mean. Not to mention the other options. And that was only on this side of the Channel.’

He paused and then recollected himself. ‘Sorry. This must be terribly boring for you.’

‘No. It’s not,’ said Alex simply. ‘We’re not doing anything else. Tell me if you want to.’

’Tell you about David?’

’Yeah. If you want to.’

Thomas considered, and then resettled himself on Alex. ‘Very well. His name was David Mellenby and he was... brilliant. There’s no other way I can describe him. That word is bandied around all too often these days, but, really, he was. We met at school; we were in the same form as it goes, though never remotely in the same class.’ He paused again. ‘I used to wonder sometimes what he ever saw in me.’

Alex made a noise, indistinct but unmistakably disbelieving, and Thomas could feel it in his chest as well as hear it.

‘Oh yes, I know. Sports captain and all that, perhaps that was it. In any event, we… made a connection, you might say, in VI Form in the year or so before we left. Nothing particularly out of the ordinary; usual schoolboy stuff. Then, once we were done at Casterbrook, I went into the Foreign Office on Uncle Stanley’s say so and David went up to Cambridge, to become even more brilliant, which I am assured that he did.’ 

‘We ran into each other again at the Folly a few years later – one ran into everyone at the Folly sooner or later in those days – and sort of picked up where we’d left off. And it … continued. In truth, we weren’t actually together that much – physically I mean - and he wasn’t what you would call a proficient correspondent - but… there was something,’ he added reflectively, ‘that kept us together over the years, more than just the danger and the legalities hedged about us I mean.’ He halted, frowning. ‘” _Something_ ”? Really?’ he muttered to himself. ‘Well done, Nightingale. Most articulate.’

Alex said nothing, and continued to stroke Thomas’ hair meditatively.

After some moments Thomas continued, the distant look still on his face. ‘He was smaller than you – much; smaller than me even, and he had the most expressive face I think I have ever seen. His eyes were brown and large, almost too large for his face it seemed at times. I could always tell what he was thinking, even if I did not always understand it. Perhaps it was that he never tried to conceal anything from me. We used to joke that he could be buried up to his nose in sand and we would still be able to communicate enough to…’ He fell silent.

After a few moments, Alex ventured, ‘And this was your only relationship? Back then?’

‘Relationship? Oh yes. I suppose you could say so. I mean, I was posted overseas pretty much constantly for the best part of twenty years, and only got back to England once every year or so. He remained here of course, Imperial after Cambridge, but, yes, we always came back to each other. The Folly kept us together as well, to a certain degree.’

Alex snorted. ‘Fuck the Folly! You loved him.’

‘Yes. Yes I did. Fuck the Folly indeed,’ he grimaced, then his expression changed once more. ‘And he loved me also, inasmuch as he was able.’

Alex furrowed his brow. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, I told you he was brilliant. He really was. His mind was… exceptional. And, entirely understandably, his work - the experiments, the attempts at synthesis, all of it - was his greatest passion. How could it not be? It was a comfort, in one way, to know that there was no one else, that I was the only person in his life. But - at the same time - I knew absolutely that his work came first. He would never, ever betray it or get bored of it. And in that sense I could never compete. I realised that quite early on. So I took what he had left to give me and was grateful for it.’

Alex blew out a long breath. 

Thomas angled his head to look at him. ‘What?’

‘Well, I dunno. It’s not my place to say, obviously, but it sounds a bit... one-sided. For want of a better word.’

Thomas shrugged. ‘Does it? It didn’t seem so particularly at the time. As I say, circumstances were very different then, and aren’t we supposed to make allowances for those we love?’

‘Allowances, yeah, but.. never mind. And this carried on into the war then? If you don’t mind me asking, that is,’ he added.

Thomas gave him a small smile. ‘No, not at all. I didn’t expect to be speaking about this today but, if you don’t mind hearing it, I’ve no objection. Yes, it carried on, we were together I mean, for, what, twenty years? Twenty-five? When does one begin counting? From school? One’s twenties? In any event, up until the end of the war or thereabouts. And there was never anyone else during that time. Noone in here anyway,’ and he indicated his chest.

There was silence for several moments, before Alex spoke. ‘“Up until the end of the war,”’ he repeated, looking thoughtful. ‘So he was _there_?’ he asked gently. 

Thomas gave a short mirthless laugh. ‘There? Ettersberg you mean? Yes. He was there. It was his… ‘ He hesitated and let out a sigh. ‘It was an unholy mess is what it was. But he got out, as I did, if that’s what you’re asking.’

‘Oh right.’

Thomas was silent again, staring down the years. When his voice came, it was empty and hollow. ‘But he shot himself. Not long after he got back to England. Just after I got back, in fact.’

Alex tightened his grasp where he was holding him. ‘Fuck, Thomas. I’m sorry.’

‘Thank you, but it was decades ago. It hardly matters now.’ 

He shook his head and sat up abruptly. ‘I apologise, Alex, for the somewhat morbid turn this conversation has taken.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I don’t know about you, but I could do with some breakfast, what do you say?’ and without waiting for an answer, he swiftly got out of bed and headed to the bathroom, smoothing down his hair as he did so with an unconscious gesture.


End file.
